The picture I never took...

So thinking back over the last few weeks there are a few pictures that I wish I could have taken. The one that sticks out in my mind the most is the picture of my dad's hands. My dad is a very hard-working man, when he is not running his own concrete company, he is busy with his calling in his church. Because he is so busy I don't see him as often as I would like. I remember when I was younger I loved to go along with him to a job site and watch him pour concrete and finish it. It was fascinating to me to watch the whole process and to get to help sometimes. My dad taught me a lot when I was growing up just by using his hands: how to serve, how to work hard, and how to love, just to name a few. When my family moved into our new house I was excited not only to have new concrete put in our yard but to have my dad pour it for us so that I could watch him work again. The morning that he came I followed him around while he worked and noticed his hands, covered in concrete, working like they always do. He was standing on the north side of my house in the shade, his clothes were covered in concrete and he was leaning on the handle of a large trowel. His fingers were relaxed with slight wrinkles that were magnified by the dried concrete that had covered his hands and filled his wrinkles. He was standing back analyzing the work that was going on. In that moment I remembered my childhood and I remembered all of the lessons that he had taught me growing up. In the time it took me to go and get my camera, he had washed his hands and had to leave quickly for another job site. He returned later only to supervise and I never got the chance to take that picture. I hope that sometime in the future I will have another opportunity.